


Stripper

by kate_the_reader



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Advent Oddments, M/M, Stag Party, Stripper!Arthur, pretend cop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 16:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12916212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_the_reader/pseuds/kate_the_reader
Summary: Arthur's not the most expert stripper, but that doesn't matter





	Stripper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hooptedoodle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hooptedoodle/gifts).



> My story number two in this Santa's bag of Advent Oddments, which are not seasonal, except as presents to the best fandom.  
> Once again, the prompts are from dear hooptedoodle's lovely brain.  
> And another thank you to my partners in fic, mycitruspocket and MsBrightsideSH.

“It’s not a stag party without a stripper.”

“But is it even a stag party when there are two grooms and they’ll both be at the party? Why are we even throwing this party?”

“Because everything will change once they’re married. They’ll start going antiquing or something on the weekends. We’ll never see them!” 

Yusuf seems pretty set on the idea, so Eames gives in and googles “gay strippers, London” … and gets surprisingly few results for the sort of guy who’ll come to your party with his boombox, like you see in the movies. He turns to the back pages of an _Attitude_ magazine. The options are wider there, but he doesn’t have to look far down the alphabetical list before he sees him. “Arthur”. Scowling in a police uniform, not trying to look sultry or anything. And who the hell chooses Arthur as their stripper name? 

He rings the listed number. “Arthur” sounds a little surly, but says he does do party calls, yes, in uniform, of course, what song would Eames like him to use?

“Your choice, pet. I imagine you know how this works better than I do.”

“Arthur” snorts. “I guess”.

***

The party is going quite well, most people are at least a bit drunk and Robert and Aaron seem to be having fun; when the doorbell rings, Eames leaps to answer it. On the step is a policeman scowling from under his uniform cap, his ears sticking out endearingly. He’s clutching a boombox. 

“Arthur?”

“Yeah. Where should I go?” 

“The grooms are on the terrace. Right through there. Dark-haired guy with big blue eyes and tall black guy.”

“Right.” He walks through, giving Eames a good view of his arse. Nice, in his black policeman’s trousers. Although trousers that tight would be illegal on the beat.

Eames gets to the terrace just as “Arthur” steps up to Robert and Aaron. “You’re both under arrest,” he says, “for lewd behaviour. I’m gonna have to cuff you.” He fumbles at the back of his belt for his handcuffs, and locks the two laughing grooms together. “And now,” he says “... oh fuck. Hold on.” And turns back to the sitting room where he’s set down the boom box. Someone’s turned off the party music in anticipation, but the stripper music hasn’t started yet. Arthur presses the button and goes back to the terrace. Those endearing ears are bright red as the strains of _Genghis Khan_ burst forth.

Arthur starts to dance, and it’s … enthusiastic, if a bit awkward. Everyone’s clapping along and whooping as he puts his cap on Robert’s head and shimmies in front of them. He unbuttons his shirt sort of sensually, his narrow hips swinging, and flings it at Aaron. Then he drops his hands to his waistband and tugs. Nothing happens. He tugs harder and the telltale sound of Velcro rips through the room. His trousers part at the side seams and he swings them round his head and throws them at Eames. “I don’t want you to get it on with nobody else but me,” goes the lyric and Arthur is blushing beet-red and staring at Eames, clad in nothing but black briefs and boots. 

He’s a bit skinny and terribly flustered but his intent is pretty plain. And then he remembers who he’s supposed to be teasing and turns back to the grooms, grabbing their hands and pulling them into dancing as the song ends, which is followed by another charmingly inept moment as he retrieves the key to the cuffs from the pocket of the pants, hanging over Eames’ shoulder. 

“Don’t run off too quickly,” Eames murmurs to him. “Stay and have a drink.”

Arthur grins at him, showing off dimples. “You still have to pay me,” he says.

“Right. And here I thought it was my sheer animal magnetism …”

“That too,” he says over his shoulder as he turns away with the key.

One drink turns into two, and when Arthur finally says he should be going, Eames sees him to the door. “Do you have a real name, Arthur?”

Arthur laughs. “No. Arthur is my real name. Call me. Maybe.” He winks and walks off down the street with a decided swing of his arse in his illegally tight trousers.

**Author's Note:**

> prompts: No, Velcro and "sheer animal magnetism"


End file.
